


Stupid and Sleazy

by Methoxyethane



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Eddie's legs, Fluff and Humor, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Pining, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26491612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Methoxyethane/pseuds/Methoxyethane
Summary: Eddie had managed to already get wrapped up in what Richie had been watching on the TV while he was waiting for his friends to show up, the very same show that Richie himself had already forgotten about pretty much the second Eddie had entered the room. So at least for now Richie had the privilege to keep staring at Eddie’s legs, because they were close enough to being in line of sight to the TV that Eddie wouldn’t notice he was being leered at.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76





	Stupid and Sleazy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmbitiousSkychild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbitiousSkychild/gifts).



Richie got to his basement for movie night first, which made sense considering it was his house. Also they all had to wait to meet a few hours after school got out, on account of the fact that Eddie had track meet and Mike had work, so Richie had stalled by sneaking off to the clubhouse to get stoned with Bev, but that really hadn’t taken up that much time.

They’d only had half a joint left between the two of them so most of his high had already worn off by the time Eddie came thumping downstairs, but Richie didn’t mind. Sobriety was only a burden when he was alone, and right now his favorite person in the world had just shown up and Richie could focus all his attention on bothering the shit out of him.

There was a couch sitting on the far wall from the TV that was usually first-come first-serve, but for today Richie had already plopped himself down onto the floor in front of it and Eddie didn’t bother with the furniture in favor of the spot on the floor next to Richie.

He practically collapsed onto the old worn out rug covering the hard concrete of the basement floor, sweat still staining the back of his shirt in a V. 

“Nice to smell you, Eds. Did you run all the way here from practice? You still reek of sweat.”

“And you reek of weed stank,” Eddie shot back, spreading his legs out in front of him and leaning back against the seat of the couch. “And yes, I did run all the way here. Track got cut short when Cody fell and twisted his ankle, so I had to get a little extra practice somehow.”

“And you didn’t even nurse him back to health with your sweet sweet love? Poor Cody.” Richie could not actually smell the sweat Eddie was wiping from his brow, but he kind of wished he could. The dank musty smell of his basement overpowered most of whatever other scents might have been in the air, so Richie was not able to indulge in whatever filthy fantasies of Eddie’s skin the smell might have induced in him. Pity.

But once again, definitely for the best. Richie was getting worse and worse at suppressing his attraction to Eddie as the years went on and the Losers all grew into their bodies, and it was only by virtue of his naturally filthy mouth letting him get away with any trash talk that entered his mind that he hadn’t managed to expose himself. Any time he said something lewd or inappropriate everyone just laughed it off as another joke, and thus Richie was saved form humiliation for another day.

Still, when they were all alone like this, it wasn’t easy. Eddie’s skinny frame was filling out with the muscles he’s earned from the track team, still lithe but more solid and less breakable than he’d been in his youth. It looked good on him, and he had more confidence because of it, which looked even better on him than the track shorts did.

Okay, that was probably a lie. Nothing looked better than Eddie’s legs in those short shorts. Except probably his smile, but somehow, Richie felt less gay admiring his calves than he did when he got lost in Eddie’s smile, so. He tried not to count that.

Richie also tried not to go to Eddie’s track meets. Not because he didn’t want to - in fact the complete opposite. Eddie looked good when he ran; the sweat rolling down his neck and the flex of his legs as they propelled him across the track. But most of all his eyes. He had this  _ look _ on his face when he ran, a look of concentration and contentment at the same time, a look of having fallen completely into his Zone where nothing mattered but the feel of the wind on his face and the burn of his muscles as they worked, like his entire world narrowed down to his his body and the pavement and nothing else.

It made Richie feel things, made him happy to see his friend so comfortable with himself and his body but also made him… Jealous, maybe? That he wasn’t sure of what. He didn't really know what this cold black feeling in his chest was, just knew it was because Eddie had his eyes straight forward and not anywhere near where Richie was, and that was enough for Richie to make him wanna throw things at the track to trip Eddie up, just so he’d have to whip around and yell at Richie, just so his attention would be on him again.

So Richie didn’t watch Eddie run much. The sad side effect of that was that he barely got to see Eddie in those fabulous little shorts he wore to practice, but luckily for him - or maybe unluckily - Eddie hadn’t bothered to change out of his track clothes before he came to Richie’s house, and was thusly wearing said shortie shorts right at this very moment.

Their legs were only inches apart, close enough for Richie to bump his feet into Eddie’s for no other purpose than to annoy his friend. And maybe to distract himself, because Eddie’s legs were long and finely toned and  _ right there _ , close enough to be able to casually rest his hand on Eddie’s bare thigh if only he had the excuse.

Eddie had managed to already get wrapped up in what Richie had been watching on the TV while he was waiting for his friends to show up, the very same show that Richie himself had already forgotten about pretty much the second Eddie had entered the room. So at least for now Richie had the privilege to keep staring at Eddie’s legs, because they were close enough to being in line of sight to the TV that Eddie wouldn’t notice he was being leered at.

Richie felt gross for a second, until he remembered the last time everyone had gotten together. He thought of the casual way Ben and Bev acted now that they’d officially gotten together, the way Ben was allowed to casually touch her legs and she only gave him a warm smile, even if she was wearing a dress or skirt and his hand landed on her bare skin. 

How easy it was for them. Ben had been allowed to express his love for her practically as soon as they met, been able to write a love poem and give it to her even knowing he could be rejected. Richie didn’t have that luxury, though. Richie liked another boy, and that came with consequences. That came with shame, and it came with name-calling and ass kickings, and here in Derry sometimes even straight up murders. Richie couldn’t write Eddie love poems about how his eyes or his lips or his laugh, couldn’t tell Eddie how he felt, because even though he knew Eds loved him enough to put up with his bullshit that didn’t mean he loved him enough not to shun him once he found out the lustful thoughts Richie held for him, not to be disgusted by the mere thought of the true depth of Richie’s admiration.

Shit. He was too stoned for this kind of melodrama this early in the evening. Richie shook the depressing thoughts from his mind, and decided that it was way better to just enjoy Eddie’s company as it was then to pine over the thought of more.

“You MUST be stoned,” Eddie said suddenly. “I can think of like ten dick jokes you missed in the last five minutes of this show alone.”

“That many? I must be rubbing off on you,” Richie said automatically. “Come a little closer and I bet you could help me rub something else off, too.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and elbowed Richie in the side, but even that joke wasn’t enough to make him slide away from where Richie was sitting on the floor next to him. “Dickhead.”

“I can’t help if my junk is so big it takes all the blood flow from my brain. With how big my dick it, we’re lucky I have a working brain at all.”

“Someone told you you have a working brain? I’m sorry to break this to you, but they lied.”

Richie laughed, relaxing enough to bump his shoulders into Eddie’s. This was why he liked him so much, right there. Who else could keep up with Richie’s jokes and turn them back on his ass so fast? Well, maybe Stan, but only when he felt like it. Eddie though, his reaction timing was always perfect, whether it was with a snide comeback or a simple scoff, it never failed to make Richie feel accomplished.

Eddie went back to focusing on the TV, but Richie wasn’t able to concentrate on it. They were still alone, and Eddie’s bare legs were still right in front of him, so there was pretty much nothing on TV that could be more deserving of his attention.

Richie licked his lips unconsciously, wondering if there was some excuse he could come up with to touch them. To lay his hand on Eddie’s bare thigh like Ben could do with Beverly, without shame or fear. Was he that sleazy, though? Sleazy enough to fish for any excuse to get closer to the guy he liked?

Hm. Yes. Yes, Richie was that sleazy, he decided. 

“God, Eds, have you seen your legs lately? You’re growing so much hair on ‘em, soon you’re gonna look like a yeti in those little shorts of yours.”

And with that, one hand landed on Eddie’s thigh, patting his leg idly before Richie kind of…. Left it there, and didn’t take his hand back. Just to see what would happen.

“It’s called growing up, Richie, if you had any pubes yet yourself you’d have noticed that this is natural.”

And the funny thing was, he didn’t do the completely normal thing and swat Richie’s hand away. He let Richie lay his hand on his leg, made a snide joke and just sort of… Went back to watching TV. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Richie consciously suppressed the shiver that wanted to run down his spine, knowing if he shook at all in this moment Eds would be able to feel it through their point of contact. Play it cool, Rich. Just keep calm and see how long you can make this last before Eddie calls you a freak.

What felt like anywhere between five seconds and five minutes passed, and Eddie made no move to dislodge the hand from his leg. Carefully, slowly, Richie moved his hand down Eddie’s thigh, the touch soft enough it could be unconscious. Then he slid his hand back up again, fingers and palm so feather light that his skin glided across Eddie’s like butter.

Eddie’s thigh was solid under his hand, the hairs thin and feather-soft, muscles hard and smooth with just enough plush give to make Richie want to squeeze. He didn’t dare, just continued sliding his and carefully up and down the length of Eddie’s thigh, waiting to be slapped away with the excuse that he was still stoned and feeling particularly tactile ready on his tongue.

Eventually, after a length of time he had no way of judging in his current distracted state, he dared to glance at Eddie out of the corner of his eye. He had his eyes still focused on the TV, but there was a light dusting of red spread across his face, a blush gone uncontained. Richie didn’t dare to think of what it might mean. Just kept gently running his hand up and down the skin of Eddie’s bare thigh, letting himself pretend that it was because Eddie didn’t just not mind his touch, but actively welcomed it.

And then, to break the tension, the door at the top of the stairs swung open and footsteps started to descend down the stairs. Eddie jerked away like he’d been burned, quickly folding his legs underneath himself and out of Richie’s reach, face burning bright red as he looked at the staircase to see who had arrived.

Mike was stopped halfway down the stairs with a blank expression on his face. 

“Hey, Mike and Ikes,” Richie greeted, waving at him with the hand that had just been forcibly removed from Eddie’s leg. “How was work?”

Mike, for his part, didn’t say a word. Just turned right around and walked back upstairs, face completely devoid of any expression as he left the basement.

“G-great, now look what you’ve done!” Eddie scolded, face still burning red as he shot a glare at Richie. “You scared off Mike!”

“Doing what? Saying hello?” Richie said, playing innocent for lack of a better option.

Eddie huffed irritably at him, swatting his shoulder. “Just - watch where you put your hands, moron! You can’t do stuff like that when we’re not alone!”

Richie opened his mouth, but the words he had planned on saying were lost in favor of a startled, “So, it’s fine if we  _ are _ alone, then?”

Eddie shot to his feet. “I - I’m going to go get a soda!” He dashed towards the stairs in a gazelle-like leap, shouting up at them, “Hey Mike, do you want any snacks?”

He left Richie sitting on the floor, dumbfounded. He stared at his hand, thinking of Eddie’s blushing face. 

Next time they were alone, he promised himself, he’d do something even stupider and sleazier.

—


End file.
